Autism Acceptance
Words by Summer Smith
Content Warning: This piece includes discussions of historical ableism, Nazi eugenics, internet harassment of autistic people, and references to sexual violence and abuse.
Self-Diagnosis, Self-Reflection
Growing up, I didn’t really understand how to make friends. It was as if everyone was talking in some secret made-up language— and sometimes, it still feels that way. When I was twelve, there was a time when my friends were in on this elaborate prank they excluded me from because I “would have gotten too angry” and I was “too sensitive to get it”. A lot of situations were like this, and it felt like betrayal every single time. Some things to know about me: I have resting bitch face (whatever that means), I hate making eye contact, I feel very strongly when it comes to injustices, I’ve always been a blunt person, I am terrible at lying, and I need to script or mirror in order to follow social rules that I don’t even understand. I’m not saying all of this makes me autistic, but these are some of the experiences and patterns that led me to believe I am.
During my freshman or sophomore year of college, my dear friend Zoe brought up the possibility that I might be autistic while they were going through their own self-discovery journey. So, I began doing research: taking autism assessments, quizzes, and just generally exploring what I identify with, if anything at all. One resource assessment I’ve taken countless times is the RAADS-R test, which is designed for “identifying autistic people who ‘escape diagnosis’”— my results are as follows:
· TOTAL: 185
· Language subtotal: 16
· Social relatedness subtotal: 77
· Sensory/motor subtotal: 54
· Circumscribed interests subtotal: 38
My score was above average for neurotypical, suspected autistic, and autistic males and females who have also taken the RAADS-R test. This assessment has a sensitivity of 97%— meaning “97% of autistic people who took the test met the cutoff score and were accurately classified as autistic”. To me, that says something. To me, based on everything I’ve looked into, including this test, I am autistic.
And contrary to popular belief, self-diagnosis doesn’t harm anyone. I’m not taking up any resources by doing research and trying to understand myself better. I’m not discrediting professionally diagnosed autistic people. I’m not talking over anyone by simply sharing my own experience. And yes, I am aware of the discourse surrounding self-diagnoses—but getting a professional evaluation when you’re an adult is not easy. Without insurance, an autism assessment can cost anywhere between $1,000 and $5,000. Even with insurance, the cost varies. I cannot use my parents’ insurance either— not just because I don’t want to burden them financially, but because I don’t want my mom to find out that I am looking into whether or not I’m autistic. There are so many factors going into why I will remain self-diagnosed for the time being, and I’m sure there are more nuances for other self-diagnosed people as well.
Leveling Up and Asperger's (Eugenics Rhetoric)
Now that we’ve gotten past who I am, do you guys know about Autism Speaks? I promise this is relevant. When I was researching the different “levels,” of course their website showed up first, right under Google’s AI Overview. “ASD levels of severity.” Come. On.
Autism Speaks is extremely problematic for a lot of reasons, but I will now direct you to this article. Anyways, Level 1 of autism is “requiring support,” Level 2 is “requiring substantial support,” and Level 3 is “requiring very substantial support” according to the DSM-5. These levels are basically a sanitized equivalent to “high functioning” vs “low functioning,” which are also exceedingly problematic, considering autism is a spectrum.
“When autistics with few obvious support needs (and their caregivers) use “high-functioning,” they’re creating distance between themselves and those autistics with more obvious support needs… can we also take a moment to recognize the dystopian, capitalist idiocy of quantifying human beings based on how well they ‘function’?!” and when referencing the switch from high/low functioning to levels, “Here again, being autistic is defined by how inconvenient it is to those around them, rather than on the autistic person’s own experience.” writes Melanie Deziel in Levels, functioning labels, and other ableist hierarchies projected onto the autistic experience.
I highly suggest reading more of Deziel’s work via Substack— it’s so informative and almost always something I can relate to.
All of this “high functioning” vs “low functioning” talk comes from eugenics, A.K.A. Nazi Shit—where Aspergers was born out of Hans Asperger. Long story short, Hans wasn’t part of the Nazi party but was close with a lot of Nazis, benefited from antisemitism while working his way up the career ladder, sent 722 sick and/or disabled children to a clinic where they were experimented on, tortured, and murdered, and he killed any “autistic psychopath” that could not be taught “social integration” or “special abilities”. The only difference between these autistic individuals was the ability to mask— the Nazis (much like other ableist people) were not looking for their individual experiences nor to understand inner workings of the mind, but to see who could function under oppressive forces.
Cringe Culture (Is Dead, or Should Be)
The internet is a place where a lot of autistic people are given the chance to find community accessibly, and a place to get verbally harassed for being yourself or become a “lolcow.”
Urban Dictionary says a lolcow is: (n) A person or group of people laughed at for actions that they take, despite not trying to be funny. They may try to take themselves seriously, but are often “milked” for laughs with or without their knowledge.
The thing is, as far as I’ve seen, all lolcows are disabled people— usually autistic— and end up being convinced to commit terrible acts (including crimes), usually on video or while streaming. Chris Chan is usually the first person who comes to mind and is the original lolcow of the internet— there is even a comprehensive history series about them on YouTube by Geno Samuel, but I do not suggest watching as it gets extremely graphic (so trigger warning for sexual violence and harassment, incest, verbal abuse, and more if you do end up watching.t’s also like 60+ hours long). I’m not here to defend any autistic person’s actions when they are extremely fucked up, but I am here to say the person/people manipulating any autistic person into doing said fucked up actions is just as bad, if not worse. Outside of lolcows, autistic people are attacked online quite often for expressing their special interests, especially anything deemed “cringey.”
Now, I don’t understand what’s so cringey about liking… anything. Or talking about your interests. Lip syncing or dancing to audios that go along with your interests. Cosplaying as your interests. And even outside of interests, singing imperfectly in a video, showing off OCs (original characters), doing anything that you want that isn’t hurting anyone else on the internet. I get it, you have the freedom to say what you want online, but why is it necessary to make someone feel bad about themselves when you can scroll away? Cringe is just internalized embarrassment. It’s your own problem or insecurity. Autistic people should be allowed to post online like anyone else does— “to be cringe is to be free”, right?
Outside of the demonization of autistic (or even just disabled) people and our “cringe” behavior, there’s also the problem of infantilization— usually, victims being lower-masking autistic people, or when someone is known to be autistic. I’m not naming names but some of those “autism mommies” treat their autistic adult offspring like they’re children— no autonomy is given, they use babytalk or that one voice that elementary school teachers usually use, etc. There’s also this weird phenomenon where people who harass high-masking autistic people would harass lower-masking autistic people in a different way: by treating them the same way autism mommies would treat their children. Or like a pet or a project of good deeds. Regardless, weird!
A Note on Masking and Concluding Thoughts
I’ve used “higher/high-masking” and “lower/low masking” a lot in this piece, but let me clarify one thing: masking is a privilege. Not every autistic person knows how to or has the ability to mask. This isn’t to take away the fact that masking can ruin your mental health and can feel terrible when doing it. The entire point of masking is to seem neurotypical in front of other neurotypical people— and yet, for some high-masking autistic people, it doesn’t end when you’re in private. Nevertheless, it’s a privilege because it can make you safer in public.
When I mask, it ends the moment I’m with safe people (or by myself) in a safe space— for example, my partner, my best friends, and some of my family would be people who are safe; my partner’s bedroom or my own would be the safest space for me. Anywhere else, I am masking, and the extent shifts depending on whether I’m speaking or not. If I’m speaking, I prefer to know what we’re talking about ahead of time so I can make a script beforehand; if I don’t have a script, then I’m mirroring whoever-I’m-talking-to’s behavior and my perceived version of them. If I’m not speaking, I don’t know what to do at all. I don’t know where to look, if I should be making eye contact, if I shouldn’t be making eye contact, what my facial expression should be, if I should be nodding— anything. I’m aware you should be doing something, so I make attempts to do so, but I’m never certain if I’m doing it right. I tend to look at the ground, or at the TV if there’s one playing, out a window if I spot one, at a pet if one is close by. Something moving. Something to watch. Someone to be somewhere else.
I’m not sure when or if I’ll ever get a professional diagnosis– whether I’ll ever be able to afford one, if it’s necessary for me and my journey. I’m still learning new things about myself each and every day, and how to be softer to myself. What I am most certain about is that I am not the problem. Being autistic isn’t the problem. It's the unaccepting system that I and other autistic people are forced to navigate. We’re just trying to exist– and that is enough.